Of the Cloth
by Minibit
Summary: AU - In a church-ruled state, Roy is convicted of crimes against the holy hierarchy, and sentanced to working under Edward in the church in a bid to make him 'better', a story of confusion, controversy, and learning to accept. RoyxEd.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Because I know it'll confuse those of you who aren't used to era-crossing, this is an AU fic set in a time when the church's word is law, but the world is about the same age as in FMA – mid to early 19th century.

* * *

When Roy first met Edward Elric, he was regarded with the critical assessment he expected as a convicted criminal. Certainly, he did not make the best impression, keeping his face straight was a challenge he had not prepared for as his guard explained that his sentence would be served under the supervision of the diminutive youth before him. "After your time has been served the court will decide if you should be released or not."

As much had been explained to him when the sentence of working in the church instead of throwing him behind bars had been decided, and given the choice, Roy bit his tongue and reminded himself he was in no place to argue. But still – the youth who stood with a too-serious expression in a thick red robe, hands folded before him, was just that, a youth. A stunted height put his head on level with Roy's chest, his peculiarly coloured, downcast eyes held none of the tired wisdom of elder maturity, and while a trim jaw line refuted the roundness of childhood, he still couldn't possibly have reached his twenties yet.

Through with his analysis, Roy realised the guard was still talking. "...Perhaps he can instil in you some of his piety, and create some semblance of a decent citizen. Edward, I leave this sinner in your care."

"I understand. God bless you, sir." The official nodded and the boy bowed before the former left, heavy boots pounding across the hardwood floors of the church sanctuary. Roy watched him go, the stained-glass windows flickering over the church emblem on his back.

"I do not fucking believe this." Roy stated, unable to chain back his disbelief once the door was shut.

The cringe was visible. "Sir, I will thank you not to swear in this sacred place, and encourage you to keep a civil tongue outside of it, as well. I understand you are to work here, as penance for crimes undisclosed. Cleaning and maintenance will fall under-"

"You can't be more than eighteen, you can't be."

"Seventeen, actually. As I was saying-"

"Sevent-! my god, are you serious? This is just insult to inj-"

"HEY!"

Roy stopped his rambling, surprised at the stern tenor which rang a bit too loud from such a small speaker.

"I will thank you to watch your language in this house, sir." The clerical youth requested, and waited a moment as if to be sure he wasn't going to protest again. "As I was saying, your work will be cleaning and maintenance, and we will begin immediately. Today's task is cleaning the chapel floors; please come with me."

"S-sure."

"Sir – ah, what is your name, again?"

"Roy" he let his shoulders and back relax as he followed the kid down the hall – for someone so young, he walked with a sense of authority and purpose he couldn't even visualize on half the slouching teens in the street. Maybe he was training to be a priest or something, reforming a sinner like himself was supposed to be practice? Either way, it was decided, and he wasn't about to risk the church-ruled courts changing their minds back to prison.

"Roy, then. I realise you object to answering to a younger person, but as you are under my supervision for the time being, I would like to say I find it admirable that you have agreed to take steps to bettering yourself."

"As opposed to prison? I'll take the compliment, but I didn't have much of a choice." He pointed out, frowning.

"I... see."

"You didn't know they wanted to lock me up?"

"I was told only that the judge at your trial deemed this a better penance for whatever your sin was than the conventional alternative. And personally I think most of the lost souls in this city would be better off serving in parishes than rotting in cells."

"It's less boring, I imagine."

"Well, yes, that as well."

Roy looked sideways – and downward at the cleric as they walked. That they'd put him under the supervision of a male person led him to doubt the seriousness of this situation, that the man was younger and probably much weaker than him only added fuel to his suspicion that this was a test rather than a sentence. Still, if he had to do time cleaning a church, he wasn't going to complain about doing it in the company of an attractive, soft-spoken blond.

Mentally, he smacked himself, hard. Seventeen may have been above the legal age of consent, but that didn't make it any less foreign to be thinking like that about someone who, comparative to himself, was still a child.

"You really don't know what they took me in for?"

"I haven't the faintest. You seem like a decent sort, a bit foulmouthed, but most are, these days. I don't take you for a robber or any kind of violent criminal."

"Uh-huh." Roy faced forward again, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, let's just leave it like that."

"Very well." Edward stopped them at a wooden door with a heavy iron handle; it looked like the rest of the doors and the rest of the hallway he'd been leading him down; dark and old and well-worn, but not with the care and smiles which wear down door-handles and floors in old houses. He opened the door and took out a bucket with rags in it, and filled it with water from a gigantic cask before handing it to Roy and slinging a sack labelled 'sand' in black ink over his shoulder. He was stronger than he looked, apparently. "Confession is better left for the confessional anyway."

"You hear confessions?" Roy asked incredulously, trying to picture Edward sitting behind a screen, staring dead ahead and nodding and referring to someone as 'my son' and having an exceptionally hard time of it.

"Of course not, I'm not a priest!" Either the kid was shocked or outraged by the question, either way it put a rise in his voice that sounded so natural it made his calmer tones seem strange on him.

"In training, then?"

"Sort of." Edward kept his stare and his shoulders straight as he led the rest of the way along the corridor to the chapel. "I belong to the priests; I've lived here since I was small. When I was twelve they offered me the choice of leaving and living in the orphanage instead, and I chose to stay." He pushed open the thick wood door at the end of the hall with one hand, and Roy found himself standing in a smaller, more basic version of the sanctuary he'd entered before. There was a separate entrance, and less windows. "This life serves me well, and everything I do is devoted completely to the church, and of course to God."

"Completely, huh."

"You got it."

Edward's speech only seemed to get more confusing the more Roy heard it. As he started moving furniture off a section of the room, he shook his head. When he spoke casually, it seemed habitual for him to check himself, and reverted to the quieter, subdued tones that better matched the heavy red robe he wore, as if he thought he'd done something wrong.

"Including playing warden?"

The water sloshed across the floor, and turned the sand Edward had spread on the cleared area to a darker shade.

"They seem to think I'll be a good example for you. Religiously, I mean. You obviously don't think very highly of the church's laws." Edward tossed Roy a rag and commenced to scrubbing.

"None taken, it's true enough." A sense of resignation fell over him as he worked, and he had to remind himself again that it could be much, much worse. Out of the corner of his eye, Edward was scrubbing away, as well. He was mildly surprised; as supervisor in this situation, he could easily have taken the excuse to sit and watch. His movements were wide, all of his arms and shoulders and back went into each shove, brows drawn down tight as if getting this floor clean was the most important thing in the world. Did he throw himself this fully into everything? What was such a passionate person doing in a church, of all places?

Better than shuffling about causing trouble in back alleys, he guessed as he turned his attention back to polish-scrubbing the floor. It wasn't that surprising to hear that Edward belonged to this place the way other unfortunate children belonged to orphanages or foster homes – after all, the church controlled those places, too. Amestris had existed in a church-ruled state for quite some time, the judge who had convicted him had probably been preaching a sermon the day before, religion and law were one and the same, and the morals of one were enforced through the other. Still, he couldn't help thinking as he felt an ache beginning in his back, that the entire idea of 'church' fit this kid like a fur coat fit summer. There was nothing to support that impression, of course, he'd only met the kid that day, but something, a vibe, whatever you wanted to call it, whispered of something not quite as it ought to be.

It took them two hours to clean the floor, and another hour for the raised, stage-like area which was preached from, and then still more to sweep the dried sand out of the door and into the garden behind. Conversation was limited to directions, 'you-missed-a-spot', and other impersonal remarks. As he watched the boards he'd gone over already begin to gleam warmly as they dried, he tried to shake the feeling that this place was going to get very familiar over the next while.

When they finished, Roy's hands were red and raw and his back was sore, dragging fingers through his damp hair only made him feel grimy. He was starting to reconsider that opinion about this being the better alternative. Edward closed the closet door on the bucket and rags, and smiled

"Well, it's nearly sundown, let's call it a day. Unless you want to come to the evening prayers with me?"

"Thank you – no." Roy replied, cringing just a bit. "I'll just come back in the morning I guess. See you later."

"God bless."

Glancing over his shoulder, Roy watched the retreating form hurry down the hallway; either he wasn't even winded by that amount of work, or it just didn't bother him, or he really was in far better shape than the loose robes implied. As he left the church and stepped back out into the streets, Roy stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around before starting off. He couldn't skip out in the morning; there'd be someone there to make sure he did his time, just like there were probably eyes on him now, making sure he went straight home.

* * *

A/N: And that's it for chapter one! More of a 'Read the Rules' chapter. We'll get to 'Set up the Pieces', 'Play the Game', 'Knock the Board Over', 'Scatter the Pieces', have a 'Fist Fight,' 'Clean Up', 'Shake Hands', and 'Forgive and Forget' after this.

(Really, that's much more fun than saying 'Exposition', 'Rising Action', 'Climax', 'Falling Action', 'Level-Off', isn't it?)

I really didn't want to use the word 'piety' up at the beginning there, it's such an aweful word, but I couldn't find a decent alternative, so there it sits.

So that's chapter one! Review button is your friend~


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Welcome to chapter two! I'm so glad people are actually reading this ^_^ let's Set Up the Pieces, shall we?

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One week later, two figures stood side by side at the top of the bell tower, and Roy's question echoed in the metal dome.

"So how exactly, do we do this?"

"I guess we need something to set the bell on before we unhook the chain" Edward said, frowning at it, and then the less-rusted replacement which lay coiled at his feet. "It doesn't look like it has a lowering system. Let's get some crates from downstairs."

Roy had shown up that second morning as promised, and every morning after that for the following week. Over those days, Edward had begun to learn a little about the man under his charge; however, he had to learn through observation. The reason being that Roy didn't talk much, but when he did speak he was given to bouts of unsettling insight that made Edward a little glad his low voice was usually silent. Then, of course, there was that little smirk that carried into the smug expression in his slanted eyes. That look that said he knew more than he cared to tell just at the moment. It seemed to be his most common expression, and it nearly drove Edward out of his skull.

And it hadn't taken long for him to figure out that an easy way to push Edward's buttons was to comment on his height. Fending off the sin of Wrath, he found himself reflecting more than once, was particularly difficult around this man.

There too, were the times he felt himself being looked at, but never looked back in time, or his imagination was playing tricks on him. For his entire memorable life, Edward had lived and worked in the church; it was his home and he felt comfortable in it. But besides the few youths his age who sometimes talked to him after a service or some such, he was usually by himself. Perhaps being with someone consistently over several days was just messing with his perception a little. Especially since his conversation was limited to a few cynical insights, and brief, work-related questions.

For as often as they spoke, however, Edward didn't think Roy – whose last name, he found out, was Mustang – was an especially bad person. Sure, he gave about as much care to God's will as he did to an ant crossing his path, but he wasn't out to hurt anybody, and held an honest work ethic that carried over into just about everything except that annoying I-know-something-but-you-can't-prove-it smirk.

"We're gonna have to make two trips" the subject of Edward's thoughts pointed out as they descended the spiral stairs.

"Hardship produces perseverance." Edward replied with a subdued smile and deciding that despite the man's faults, having him around was still better than working alone, though he hadn't noticed working alone was so bad until this had started. Now he thought of it as a penny from Heaven, if a quiet penny.

"That sounds like a quote."

"It's from the Bible."

"Ah, explains why I didn't recognize it."

Edward glanced over his shoulder. "It has been a while since you read the Holy Book?"

"I read a lot of things, but not the Bible."

"Never?" Surely the man was joking. Since the Church took over state control after the uprising, everybody was brought up on the Scriptures.

"Maybe when I was a kid? If so I don't remember it; the war was going on then, makes it a bit of a haze."

"Oh. I see."

"You sound weird when you talk like that." Roy hoisted a crate onto his shoulder and held it there with one arm.

"Like what?" Edward huffed, lifting one himself and following Roy back up the stairs.

"All proper and slang-free and stuff. It sounds weird coming from a kid your age; you're too young to talk like an old man."

Edward smiled. "I suppose I speak this way because the people who raised me speak this way. Does it bother you?"

"Not particularly, I just think it's a shame, that's all."

"A shame?" Edward wished he would turn back so he could see his face, it had been a while since Roy felt this talkative – he usually didn't say much unless he was irritated. Of course, any reference to Edward living his life behind the church walls seemed to evoke that reaction, at least to a mild extent, though he couldn't think of the faintest idea why it would bother the older man.

"Yeah; I mean no offense but I can't help thinking you ought to be running around having fun instead of working your life away in a stuffy old church."

"This is my life, I am content with it."

"And you're willing to stop at content?"

"My joy is in my heavenly reward; I'm willing to wait."

"Sorry, still doesn't sound like much of a life to me."

"Well." Edward chose his words with care as they stepped out into the bell tower again, and slid their crates under the bell; just big enough. He chose his words with care, the words about reformation that he had received on day one echoing in his head. "I'm happy enough; I count my blessings, and I figure, if God didn't want me to be happy, why would he leave me a step-by-step Book on finding true joy in heaven?"

"Uh-huh."

"You sound unconvinced."

"Let me ask you a question; what's the most important thing to try for in your life?"

"Well to serve God as best you can." Edward replied, perplexed as they descended into the cool stairway again.

"Not to be happy?"

"That's selfishness."

"So?"

"'So'?" Edward looked over his shoulder again. "Selfishness goes against god and sin eventually ends up turning to torment, regardless of how attractive it may seem in the short-term."

"So, let me get this straight." Roy was talking with his hands, as if laying out notes of Edwards arguments. Despite his assurance, the church worker found himself scanning for holes in his answer while reflecting that maybe it was a good thing he didn't usually talk this much.

"You honestly and truly believe that anything that would anger 'god' will eventually make the person who did it miserable, so the only real way to be happy is to keep 'god' happy?"

"That's rather over-simplifying, but yes, that's what I believe."

"Well, you're entitled to your opinion, I guess."

"You disagree?"

Edward didn't realise he'd stopped until Roy passed him, continuing down the stairs.

"All I know is I've been a reasonably happy person until they took me in, and the only misery I've experienced from anything I've done has been a result of the church-ruled excuse for a justice system. Theoretically, if nobody had felt this driving need to provide negative consequence for me, there wouldn't have been any."

"You really believe your sins could have sustained happiness?" Edward asked, trying to somehow make the question sound less condemning and failing at it.

"I'm just tired of people telling me what to want just because they're blindly following what some 'god' supposedly wrote in some 'holy book'. I think I should be free to try things for myself, and decide what's right and wrong on a free reign based on what comes of it. It's a human right to have rights to your own happiness and your own self, isn't it?"

Edward kept silent for a moment. "I don't think humans are wise enough to find truth on their own."

"I'm not interested in truth. I'm interested in a life that makes me happy and the people around me happy. No more, no less; anything wrong with that?"

"If you lead such a... moral life, Roy, then why are you working a judicial sentence right now?"

"... I didn't do anything wrong."

"You must have, or you wouldn't be here."

"Wrong is a relative concept, then."

"If what you did was nothing wrong, why are you so reluctant to speak of it?"

"See? Like that, exactly like that!" Roy stopped and had turned around to point at him, and he took a half-step backward, surprised.

"'Reluctant'? 'Speak of it'? Why can't you just say something like... like... 'So why don't you want to talk about it, then?' or something?" he fell back, and his shoulders set back again. "I mean, sheesh, talk without measuring your words for once. It suits you better."

Silence hung heavy for a minute before Edward laughed. The sound surprised him, and the queer expression which fell over Roy's face for a half a moment may have indicated surprise as well. "All right, then. Why don't you want to talk about it?"

"Hell, if you're curious I've got no problem saying. I slept with someone and was walked in on. Frankly I think I should be the one complaining, having my privacy invaded like that."

Edward stared for a moment, trying to process this new information with the few scraps he'd gotten a week ago.

"They wanted to send you to jail for...fraternizing?"

"That's way too big a word for someone your size."

"Don't call me small!" Edward swallowed, and took a breath to unclench his fists, though he knew it would be a moment before the heat receded from his face. That picking on his lack of height could work him up was something Roy had figured out by day two, and it seemed to amuse him. He counted backward from five. "...Please."

"You're cute when you're mad."

"What?" Raising his eyes again, he felt whatever tone had receded from his face flushing right back.

"Nothing. C'mon." Roy lifted a second crate and Edward realised they'd reached their destination again. "One more trip."

"You're changing the subject." Edward pointed out, frowning and swiping a sleeve along his cheek as if he could rub out the red there. Leftover from the insult, of course.

"All right then, if you're going to be persistent, they wanted to send me to jail because the person I spent the night with was another man."

Edward felt his muscles freeze, his hands went slack as his jaw and he dropped the crate he'd picked up only a moment before. So blunt – the man wasn't even fidgeting – did he even realise what he'd just admitted to?

"You were convicted of SODOMY and you STILL think you did nothing wrong?"

"The only reason I would feel guilt over what I did is if someone I was close to was hurt because of it, and it was just a one-night-stand, so there's not even that." He spoke methodically, as if speaking to a small child.

Edward was sorting through syllables, but couldn't catch one long enough to make a word out of it. The man seemed to have no notion how perverse his actions were; was he mental? If he was mentally ill then maybe his perception of right and wrong and God's intents for intercourse were blurred enough to excuse his lack of awareness. It didn't seem likely given his behaviour over the past several days, but,

"Are you mental?"

The question popped out before he realised he said it, but it seemed to amuse Roy instead of offending him, because he laughed, a deep chuckle that sounded almost relieved.

"No more than anybody. I – we I guess, weren't as careful as we should've been and someone figured it out. That we had to hide what we were doing at all is what irks me. I mean I realise it's always been this way, with the church deciding what's right and wrong for everybody, but that doesn't make it okay, does it? I've got a right to what I want to do with myself, damnit. Nobody owns me until I say so."

"If God created you, then he owns you, and... and misusing yourself and other people like that is like spitting in His face!" Exasperation showed through in his voice, and Edward was past trying to filter it. The man realised the judicial system was ruled by the church, which was ruled by God, he'd said that. Did he think he was above the system, above god himself? The magnitude of such arrogance made him feel like he ought to be on his knees apologizing for even thinking it.

"If some 'God' created me" Roy glowered, taking a step toward Edward, who stepped backward with a surprised squeak, "And this same 'god' wants me to have a good life, then why did he make me this way? I didn't choose to like men, Edward, much as you may want to believe I'm mental or confused – that'd make it a bit easier to punish me, wouldn't it? But I wouldn't choose to be knocked around for accepting myself, just because a goddamn BOOK says I shouldn't. I mean, do I look stupid? Hm?"

Edward gulped, shaking his head as he tried to step back again and found himself literally against a wall.

"If your 'God' wants people to be happy, Edward, then why's he make his followers harass me for something I can't change?"

He straightened, and the weight on his shoulders that Edward hadn't noticed before returned.

"Let's just get this shit done."

Roy fell into his silence again, and Edward was too busy steadying his pulse and processing everything he'd said to comment on his swearing.

* * *

A/N: Proofreading was hard on this chapter, as I felt Roy was being too passé about admitting his "crime." I changed it a little, but for those of you who agree he's being too casual about what would be considered a horrible offense in a church-ruled state, you have to remember that he's pushing thirty years old. He's old enough to be very tired of the way the world works. Hell, I'm only twenty in December and I'M sick of the way the world works. Roy's just a lot calmer about it than I am, and that's in keeping with his canon character.

PS because not explaining it will bother me, Edward is as clueless as Roy on replacing the Bell-tower chain because that fucker is durable and doesn't need to be changed for a VERY long time, he's almost definitely never had to do it before.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: It's not midnight yet! I have updated on time! Sorry about the lateness, folks; I work in a restaurant (one of two jobs) and some group of twenty assholes came in fifteen minutes before closing time at ten, company policy is to wait until they're finished eating and chatting over the dishes before we can close, and I still had to buy groceries after work.

Let's dispense with the author's note and just Play the Game already

* * *

Roy closed the door of his home behind him that evening without bidding his usual sarcastic 'goodnight' to the mostly-unseen guard who followed him. He proceeded straight through the narrow, two-meter long hallway, past the corner-kitchen and into the living room, where he flopped down on the couch, closed his eyes, and slammed the back of his head into the wall.

"Fucking CHRIST I'm an idiot!"

And just like that he could hear a soft tenor which barely made it past falsetto quietly insisting that he not blaspheme. Edward always sounded nervous – worried, even, when he made a request like that. Asking him not to swear, asking him to speak with more respect regarding the law, or the church, or the bible or whatever. Nervous for his sake, which was sweet, but which pissed Roy off to no end. No matter how hard he looked at it, Edward fit the church like a piece that didn't belong, but had been jammed in anyway. The subdued, humble manner it demanded just didn't seem to match the energetic youth who flared with color and tensed for a fight any time you so much as insinuated that he was inferior, mistaken... diminutive.

A faint chuckle made it past Roy's lips at that thought – Edward's extra-sensitivity about his height produced an expression he was sure he would never get tired of. He straightened, raising his shoulders and chin as if to try and improve his vantage point while a rapid pulse under his jaw flushed his face crimson and his nose wrinkled between his eyes with the force of his frown. Fucking hilarious.

Which was just another reason it confused and annoyed him that the youth made all haste to clear such expressions, obviously forcing himself back to the subdued tones which better matched his surroundings. Over the past seven days, Roy had made it his mission to find out why he tried so hard to mould himself thus when it was such a bad fit for him.

He'd found out the reason, but he wasn't sure it was a good one. The kid was scared stiff, at the pit of it. Scared of being caught in 'sin' and damned to hell. The kid had grown up on it, like most kids did; the fear that everything he did, if it wasn't approved in a giant book, would send him to suffering. Shit, Roy had even dared to feel pity over such an upbringing, even if Edward didn't seem to see himself as pitiable. And now he'd gone and yelled at him. Almost yelled; gotten in his face and sworn at him and that was good enough. This bright, vibrant person whom he'd wanted – still wanted – so badly to lift the understated fear from, and he'd gone and yelled at him.

Well, that and Edward had finally insisted on knowing why he'd been arrested. It wasn't that Roy was ashamed of it, really, but he wasn't a stupid person. He knew the church was the law and had been for as long as anyone could remember; since the uprising in the last war, he thought. Long enough for him to have grown up with hiding where his interests lay. Even if people didn't usually require some kind of alcohol-induced forgetfulness or a substantial bribe of some kind not to tell anyone, they treated you differently. Women, not so much beyond being disgusted, but men... Jesus.

Now normally, it wouldn't actually be that bad, the person he was working under knowing about his... deviance. Hell, he had to know he was being punished for something, knowing what shouldn't have changed much. But it really, really didn't help that this particular person, even if he was all-but a cleric, even if he was fifteen years younger, just a few years shy of being half his age, even if it was the most ridiculous person to think such a thing about, this person was down-and-out _stunning_.

Which was why – well, part of why – it pissed him off so much that anyone could find it in themselves to chain a person like that behind a goddamn religion when, if left alone to be himself without being feared into submission, he could probably give a gold idol or ten a run for their money. The youth was in good shape, intelligent, and devastatingly good looking. If he was living outside of the church, Roy felt a stab of hypothetical envy for whatever lover's arms he fell into.

Ideally, his own, but...

"Yeah that's... not happening." Roy muttered, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes and draw them slowly over his face to rub away the fantasy behind his eyelids. Nope, still not helping.

"Fuck."

He was beginning to sense a redundancy in his own thoughts, but still, Roy couldn't help reflecting that he really should be used to the feeling of liking somebody, or even simply finding them attractive, and then getting hit with the knowledge that nothing would ever come of it. He really should be able to say "ah well" and move on at that point.

Especially when it was so fucking obviously impossible.

Groaning, Roy smacked himself on the side of his head and got to his feet, making his way into the excuse for a kitchen, pulling open the topmost door above the fridge with a growl. Empty. Damnit. He could have sworn there was still a bottle in there.

He tried the freezer – nothing, though there was a circle of ice where the vodka had been. The fridge, the back of the food-cupboard, even the flask he thought he'd left half-finished in his other coat pocket. All gone. All confiscated, probably; he was essentially under house arrest, after all. Great. Just great. How was he going to get that impossible paradise out of his head if not with liquor?

Tramping up the stairs, Roy realised he hadn't bothered to remove his boots. Or his coat either, for that matter. He decided he didn't care. Turning the corner, he flopped down onto the bed on his back, arms outstretched, and waited for exhaustion to claim him.

It was a long time coming.

x_-_x

The chords of evening prayers were still resonating in the air when Edward sat at his windowsill, back against one side, feet propped against the other. It was a position available only by virtue of his stature. The evening was changing from gold to blue outside, and stars were beginning to shy through the atmosphere to peek down at the city. Edward didn't notice. He was engrossed in the heavy leather-bound volume on his knees. Gold eyes scanned rapidly back and forth, one slim finger following their path at a slightly slower pace, then flipping back to an index, to another passage, only to repeat the movement. He mouthed the words silently to himself, brows drawing down in confusion, and then clearing with a realisation only to cloud over again.

He couldn't find anywhere where it said it was wrong to try to be happy by your own standards. Bad advice, it all seemed to agree, since the Book was adamant that all other paths led straight to hell, but he couldn't help hearing a smouldering voice in his head insisting that even if it was stupid, people had the right to try.

'Okay', the scriptures before him seemed to say, 'but once you've had your fun and it's all crumbled around you, you have to come back to God and do it His way.'

"But what if it doesn't?" Edward muttered, flipping through and scanning page after page when a word jumped out at him. "What if it works out? What if you actually CAN have a decent life if the church leaves it alone to run its course? Maybe not the best life, but decent."

'Shouldn't you want the best?'

'Isn't that selfishness?'

Edward scratched at the back of his head, effectively messing up his braid and causing it to pinch at his skull. Sighing frustratedly, he flipped the length forward and started to undo it. Sure, it made sense to want the best, but wasn't wanting the best being selfish, which was a sin, which kept you away from the best? And what if you were just happy to settle for a little less; something flawed, but beautiful in its own way? After all everybody had their own opinions, that was just common sense. It followed that what was good and bad and worth trouble and worth pursuing varied from person to person, didn't it? In the book, the choices seemed so... black and white. If you're following God, you're in the right, and everything works out. If you're not, everything eventually goes wrong and you get damned for eternity. Happiness and a decent day-to-day choosing things on your own principles just didn't seem to fit in there at all. And he couldn't help wondering why it was so important for people to enforce this punishment if God was supposedly going to do it anyway.

'Thou shalt not test the Lord thy God'

"Sounds... kind of like an excuse."

Edward shook his head, looking away from the page. Having grown up dealing with God's expectations for everything laid out before him, he'd given up trying to understand all of them, after all, with that many rules for behaviour and thoughts and words, no human could obey every one of them one hundred percent of the time, right? He just had to give it the best shot he could – though he couldn't help thinking, as he often did, that it made more sense to do all of something or none of it. But doing none of it – disregarding the Book entirely – led to Hell, didn't it? He was getting off-track. Try another angle.

Roy said once that he was confined by this place, by his beliefs. It sure didn't feel like it. But then, he'd grown up with those walls, he couldn't really know what he was missing, if he was missing anything. How different could it possibly be? Roy seemed to feel freer to do a lot of things that Edward found closed off by a simple "thou shalt not". Those three words stopped Edward dead with a reverent "Yes lord", whereas Roy shrugged, smiled that easy, warm smile of his and said "Thanks for the advice, I'll take my chances." And sometimes he had fun, sometimes he got in trouble. It didn't seem to bother him, though. He said once he'd never even been to confession. He said he'd forgiven himself for things he felt bad about, and made it up to anyone who was done badly by it. But he'd done nothing to atone to God for setting a bad example to others, or desecrating creation or anything like that. He just didn't seem to think he had to, and so far as he would tell and Edward could see, nothing overly horrible had come of it.

But then, that was supposed to be after you died that you got punished, right? But nobody could really look past the grave and say "yes, he got what he deserved."

Edward had never wanted proof before, not seriously, not enough to feel this frustration that made him clench is fists and shut the Holy Book with a snap. "On Faith, my son, on faith." That was what he'd always been told when he asked how they knew something was true. But you couldn't look Faith over in your hands and test it in the well to see if it held water. You couldn't write it down and examine the facts to see if they added up. The definition of faith was to not question.

On the other hand, his faith had served him for seventeen solid years, approximately. It had kept him busy and happy, believing he had a purpose and was doing the right thing. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd had his system of belief challenged, other people had come with arguments, but they'd never been anything Edward couldn't counter with a well-chosen passage, or the help of one of the clerics. And then, there was that panacea answer: On Faith.

What was it he wanted proven again? Rubbing his temples, Edward couldn't even remember. But laying down the book by his bedside and crawling under the covers himself, he closed his eyes and just couldn't see it. He couldn't see such a calm, amiable, honest, hardworking man as a perverse abhorrence of God's intentions, and he couldn't make himself want to.

After all, if he did, he'd have to pass similar judgement on the shudder in his pulse whenever he caught himself in the fixated stare of two slanted black eyes. It was painful, a stutter in his heartbeat that dropped a weight into his belly; a weight that quickly melted into something hot and liquid and smooth. He'd given up excusing it as a startled reaction to being stared at. It was baser than that – primal. It was something you were supposed to resist when you looked at a woman. It was something he was just not supposed to have in the first place looking at a man. Yet there it was – the second deadly sin fizzing through his veins every time a semi-calloused hand brushed over his fingertips and every time he let himself watch the man for more than a necessary second.

Swallowing hard and screwing his eyes closed, Edward mentally smacked himself. Snap judgements and falling hard were nature to him – he never walked if running was an option, and it hadn't taken long for this... reaction to take hold. He'd tried to get rid of it, laid out every solution he'd ever used to deal with resisting evil, and none of them seemed to work. He'd never had to deal with anything of this overpowering strength before. There'd been attractive people, sure, but none of them had made his veins catch on fire and forced him to keep an eye on his movements to resist getting too close. He resisted, because that was all he could manage, and that was a dike slowly cracking before an ocean. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see a reasonable explanation for why he was supposed to try and keep it back in the first place.

It didn't make sense.

* * *

A/N: I DID warn you that shit would get heavy in places, right? No? Well, this is the worst of it by far; no worries n_n;; actually I may have got a little personally carried away writing Edward's part. I was raised Christian and am now agnostic and an avid gay-rights ally and yaoi fan, so it's a bit of a heated subject for me.

On a lighter note, it was fun to juxtapose Roy's way of talking with Edward's in this one.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This game is starting off slow, let's Knock the Board Over! I had fun writing this one

* * *

Dropping the heavy shears to his side so he could swipe at his brow with one sleeve, Edward wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that today was Garden Day, and so stiflingly hot.

It was a few days since Roy's outburst in the bell tower, and until today it had been clouded over, nearly a mirror of the tense, but slowly loosening attitude between himself and the worker in his charge.

He liked referring to Roy as a 'worker' in his head instead of a 'convict' or a 'criminal' or 'heretic', though all of those were, technically speaking, true. But they just didn't seem to stick to him; either the man was wrong for the labels, or the labels were wrong for the man, Edward got a headache whenever he tried to sort that out.

A shuffling sound from behind him made the youth look over his shoulder. Roy had shrugged the loose shirt he'd shown up in from his shoulders and was tying the sleeves across his waist in favour of dropping the white fabric on the ground. The majority of his upper body was a faint shade paler than his hands and neck, and Edward could see the curves of muscle in his shoulders and arms. He paused when he saw Edward looking at him, and he could see that Smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "What?"

"Nothing, it's... it's hot out."

"You've got to be smothering in those clothes."

And that was exactly what Edward was going to blame the heat rising to his face on. He'd shed the upper-half of the red cleric's robe which was too big for him to begin with, but the belt still held it at his waist where it only doubled over his lower body; and there was still the white cotton pull-over shirt underneath which he couldn't even just unbutton.

"I'll live."

"What, is it a sin to keep cool in the summer or something?"

"No I – I would just prefer to stay like this." Edward spun to face the hedge again and commenced trimming it with new ferocity.

"You're stuttering"

"W-well it's hot out!" Edward snapped over his shoulder

"Never heard you stutter before." Roy mused, ruffling a hand through his dark and damp hair.

"Is there something you mean to say?" Edward growled, and then bit his tongue. Great; now he had to confess for Wrath later. And again. Be calm! Breathe...

"It's kind of cute, is all."

Edward wished, just for a second, that he was as adept at cursing as Roy; the d-word would be perfect to describe his feelings as the heat rushed right back to his cheeks. He could HEAR the smirk in his voice, and it wasn't helping much.

"Y-you are supposed to be working on NOT thinking other men are 'cute'" he pointed out, swiping at his forehead again.

"You think it's a matter of concentration or something? We've been over this; if I could like women, I would. It would sure as he – would sure make my life easier."

Edward shook his head and let it lie. It was true, he had hinted at as much over the past few days since he found out why Roy was being punished by the church, but those 'discussions' had never gone far. For which Edward was rather glad. The older man had a way of finding – or making – holes in arguments that had always seemed airtight before, and the worst of it was that he never got mad, not since the bell-tower, and even then Edward thought, or preferred to think, that it was the judicial system, the church, he was mad at, and not him in particular. That he refused to make it a personal vendetta to prove Edward wrong only made it harder for him to believe such a calm, reasonable person could possibly be an abomination. Especially if, like he kept insisting, he couldn't help it if women held no physical attraction for him – if he couldn't help it, then wasn't considering him an abhorrence for something he couldn't change essentially the same as hating someone for their skin color? What kind of god would do that?

Shaking his head again as if it would free his mind of the doubts that kept clinging to it, Edward very nearly gauged a hole in the hedge he was supposed to be trimming. Twisting his wrist to redirect the shears, Ed's eyes widened as he found his grip slipping, and the open edge heading for his other hand.

"Watch it!"

Edward gasped as he found his wrist held in one hand and the shears rescued in another, Roy having reached over his shoulders. "You shouldn't space out while playing with knives."

Edward froze. Roy cast a shade, and a warm, faint smell like cedar and smoke fell around him. The hand around his wrist loosened its grip, and he moved the shears away from him. His hands were a little rough, and the sensation as he dropped it from Ed's wrist made him shiver, despite the heat of the afternoon and the warm proximity of the man behind him.

"Thank you" Edward managed, trying to step away and finding himself against the hedge instead. He wanted to point out that it wasn't a knife, but his tongue was being uncooperative. Roy gave him a strange look before handing the shears back and taking a couple steps away. "Well, that's it for the hedge, what's next, boss?"

Swallowing, Edward couldn't help a smile at the nickname; it was a recent thing Roy had taken up calling him, 'yes, boss', 'right away, boss', with a wink or a smirk. He hadn't asked why.

"The footpath needs to be scrubbed" he said, nodding toward the scuffed and scarred stone tiles. "Let's get some buckets and sand."

Roy led the way as they returned to the relative cool of the chapel and the hall beyond and didn't bother to put his shirt back on.

As they retrieved the tools needed and headed back toward the sunny back garden, Edward wished he hadn't lied and said he preferred to remain dressed as he was. While it was true that he'd feel uncomfortable – shy? – around Roy with no shirt on, it would be greatly preferable to suffocating as he was, and he couldn't help feeling miserable as he filled his bucket and reflected that working harder to get it done sooner would only make him hotter.

Edward gasped as a great wave of coolness dropped on him, flattening his hair to his forehead and cheeks and soaking his shirt to translucency.

"Wh-wha what th-?"

"There, keep those clothes on and you'll just be hindered now." Roy stated matter-of-factly, setting his now empty bucket back down and folding his arms with a grin. "You're welcome."

"B-but wha – I wasn't thanking you!" he cried, distressed and feeling heat rush to his face again as he tried to clear his vision from his long bangs.

"For christ's sake, just off with the shirt and quit being such a prude. It's not like I'm going to pounce on you or something."

Edward gulped as Roy turned around and started filling his bucket again. He mumbled a half-hearted protest before hurriedly un-tucking his now-soaked and clingy shirt and pulling it over his head, hanging it over the side of the well.

Roy did not, as he had said 'pounce or something'. He did, however, cast a lazy, sweeping glance over Edward as he turned away, and there was a tug at the corner of his lips like he wanted to smirk or make a remark but was trying not to. For that, Edward did want to thank him, but remained quiet as they emptied their buckets and the sandbag over the path and started scrubbing at it. It felt good to plunge his hand with his brush into the cool water, but it didn't do much for his back and shoulders, which were now subjected to the full-on glare of the sun as he bent over the path.

Roy was beginning to resent the sun's oppression as well, if his expression and half-second glares at the sky were any indication. Watching him, Edward began chewing the inside of his lower lip. He wondered if he would be mad, but... well, an eye for an eye, right?

Roy bit off a shout when the cold water splashed over his back, but the look on his face when he sat up and stared at Edward was priceless. Edward snickered, taking a step back, and then fell to his heels, the laughter bubbling up past his lips until he could barely see.

"Your... your FACE!" he managed, holding his side with one arm as he bent forward. "Oh that was pricele- AUGH!"

He sputtered for a minute as his hair dripped water over his face, and the cold drops rolled over his back, before he started laughing again.

When he finally managed to stop, Roy was sitting on his heels, hands on his knees, smiling a smile that seemed more like a retired grin as he looked at him. "Now we're even." He said, chuckling as he turned back to work.

"... not really" Edward replied, biting back a giggle and mentally reprimanding himself – it wasn't THAT funny... but still... having a water-fight with Roy made him want to laugh, and he was pretty sure it wasn't worth the trouble of questioning it. "You've splashed me twice, I only got you once."

"Guess I better watch my back" Roy grinned at his brush before straightening and gathering both buckets to refill. Edward tensed when he returned, but he set them on the ground and continued working without dousing him again, to his relief and simultaneous disappointment.

The footpath was covered in scuffs from people's shoes, and the rough surface made them a royal pain to wash out, especially since the sun dried the water so fast. Hours passed like days, and even with the occasional splash to cool off, Edward was hot and exhausted when he finally stood up and straightened his back, looking at the fruits of their labour. One of those jobs nobody noticed but the person who did it, he thought ruefully.

"Aaaah-hah. Done. Finally."

Edward looked down to find Roy lying on his back in the grass, arms out by his sides as if he'd just fallen backward and hadn't had the energy to catch himself. His eyes were closed, but he opened one when Edward looked at him, and straight away had to shade it from the sun, which was now peering at them from just above the hedge.

"What're you doing?"

"Taking a break – my arms feel like they'll fall off my shoulders if I stand up, and that's only if my knees don't revolt first."

Edward privately agreed, but bit his lip, chewing on it as he looked toward the door. "We really should go on to the next thing though, now that we've finished-"

"There is no way you don't feel tired."

"I do, but-"

"So sit down a minute; there's nothing wrong with taking a rest when you need one, Edward; that's just taking care of yourself."

Edward debated a minute, hearing words like 'sloth' and things about the lazy fool in Proverbs running through his head before he flopped down a short distance beside Roy. There were almost no clouds in the sky above them; the few that were there as wisps of lighter blue against the brighter whole, and he soon found himself mesmerised in watching their movements and transformations from shape to shape, as his pulse and breathing steadied themselves to a relaxed pace, and a tired ache began to register in his slowly loosening muscles.

The feeling of eyes on him made Edward close his eyes; he meant to challenge the stare, but he knew Roy would probably look away in time just like he always did, and now that he'd allowed himself to relax, his neck didn't seem to feel like doing anything. Besides, he was just looking at his face, nothing unusual about that. He didn't know how he knew where Roy's unwavering gaze was directed. Maybe the startling black-ink shade of his eyes somehow made it more perceptible. It was like a fingertip brushing over his skin when the other man's eyes shifted, moving slowly down his neck to his shoulders, across his collarbones and shuddering over his chest. Edward swallowed, he should challenge him. He really, really should have, but he didn't, and the wandering gaze was nearly tangible as it circled across his ribs and abdomen, brushing over his hips before moving just as leisurely back up and settling on his face again.

Paralysis fell from his eyelids like an electric charge, Edward swallowed hard, feeling a flush rise in his cheeks before he opened his eyes and forced himself to meet Roy's look. To his mild surprise, the man held his gaze for several seconds before Edward spoke.

"Can I help you?"

Roy smiled; a resigned, tired smile. "No." He said, straightening. "That's kind of the problem."

He got up, then, and headed for the door. Edward closed his eyes again and pressed his palms into them before shoving himself up and following. Did sinful perversion always make a person feel so warm?

* * *

A/N: This may just be my favourite chapter, for the water fight if nothing else.

Yes, nothing else.

Nothing to do with Roy shirtless, not at all...

.

.

But I'd like to think the few chapters I still have coming are pretty squee-worthy, too! ^.^


	5. Chapter 5 Lemon Warning

A/N:

**WARNING**;

Lemon in this chapter. You were warned.

Oh, and save the hate; I've never written anything like this before. No teasing me, bunbun-chan~! (srsly)

That said; let us begin to Scatter the Pieces; It's a short one this time, but you get it early, since the last two have been late n_n

_

* * *

_

_I've got you._

_You belong to me, only me._

_I love you._

_He didn't say any of that; he didn't have to, because it was in his hands and his kisses running over him, through him, and wrapping all around him, and Edward clung to the unspoken message as tightly as he did to the man who held him._

_He didn't know where they were, and he didn't care. He didn't know how his braid had got undone or where his clothes had gone and he didn't care. Because he was so tangled up in Roy it felt like they were nearly the same person, and the most important thing in the world was to map out every line and curve of his body as soon as possible, because the warmth of their embrace was turning to white fire that threatened to consume him._

_Chaste kisses became desperate, dropping down to below his jaw and drawing breathless pleas and groans past his lips, nipping at his flesh as wandering hands changed their course. Needing more, to touch, to feel everything, all around and through him, making him gasp and cry out and sending a shock through his body that threw back his head and opened his eyes wide, seeing stars as strong arms closed tightly around him_

"_Haa, Ahhn... please..."_

_He wasn't even sure what he was begging for, really. Friction and tremors that rolled themselves into small earthquakes between them were driving him to an edge, rocking in a sea of white stars, and it was getting harder to breathe, but he needed whatever was beyond the sparks clouding his vision, and if he didn't get it, he was sure he would die._

_Blazing waves crashed over him, and he couldn't even hear his own screams and hard breathing through the roar in his ears. His lover's breathing was hard on his shoulder, his strong embrace shook as Edward rose up against him, needing more, and oh god, still more_

_Until the fire consumed them._

Edward awoke with a gasp, and the cool of the small room settled over him, turning his damp skin clammy under his shirt and across his face as his pulse pounded in his ears, slowly settling down to a quieter, shuddering pace that left him feeling rattled and empty.

Groaning, he rolled onto his side and curled into himself, leg brushing against a warm dampness that made his face burn, even though he was alone in the room. He always woke up alone, and had never really noticed it, but a thin vapour of a thought wandered across the back of his mind as he shivered in the dark, wondering what it'd be like to wake up curled up next to someone, with their arms around you and their breath in your hair. It'd be warmer, he thought, and immediately felt his cheeks flare.

'But it's stupid to be ashamed' he huffed in his head, pulling the sheet over his shoulder and burying his face in his arms. 'At least my subconscious has the backbone to admit I don't find the idea so repulsive.'

'Sin is supposed to be inviting, like a red apple. But it has a horrible aftertaste.'

'What kind of bad consequences' Ed shot back, dimly aware that he was arguing with himself, 'could possibly come of loving Roy?'

There, he'd said it. Sort of.

'The justice system is ruled by the church, which is ruled by God, and God abhors sodomy; you would be punished.'

'That doesn't sound so bad.'

'You would be stripped of this holy house and quite possibly sent to jail; do you want that?'

'Do I have a choice at this point? I can't help this, I don't really want to, and it's painful to be part of something that tells me not to have it.'

'You'd rather be part of hell, then?'

Edward ground his forehead into the sheets, before slumping. 'Can I kiss him once outside of a dream before I burn? Might be worth it.'

'The Holy Book says it's not. In the end, both of you would burn in eternal fire. You don't even know him that well.'

"Well, thats true." Edward muttered, rolling over again and talking to the ceiling. Roy's past and most of his pastimes, hates and pleasures were largely a mystery. But, falling this totally in a short time was nature to him. He'd been chastised often for throwing himself in over his head before testing the depth of a situation, why should this be different? Maybe it was like Roy kept insisting. This cautious, humble attitude he kept striving to emulate just didn't suit him. But, maybe it was the only thing saving him? Giving in to sinfulness was supposed to end you up in Hell, after all. It all seemed to come back to that every time.

Keep resisting, keep struggling, keep being miserable, and go to heaven, or give in and go to Hell. According to the logic structure stacked heavily in his brain, Roy and the Devil went hand in hand.

"I don't care." Edward declared, the sound of his words out loud in the quiet room startling him, just a little. But he liked the boldness of it; it sounded strong and proud; like words he could pin on his sleeve and let the world gawk at.

'I don't care, because I can't help it. Even if it's not worth it in the Book, he's in my head now and I can't get rid of him. I don't want to; I like the way it feels when I can make him smile; when he touches me or calls me 'boss'. His smell; I nearly considered dropping something again just in case he caught my hand and got close enough for me to smell him again. I know how that must sound; I know I probably seem like a perverse lunatic, but I can't help it, and it hurts too much to try and stop. Maybe this, too, shall pass. Maybe there IS a way out of this temptation and back into God's good graces, maybe. But even if it's right in front of me I think I'll stay here and burn, because it can't possibly hurt as much as denying this any more.'

He listened, but the other half of his mind was silent, and the room echoed around him. Edward shivered, and pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders, procrastinating getting up and finding a change of pants. Because he knew, while the sky outside the window turned from black to blue to gray, that in the morning, the shame would come falling down like the daylight, and he would go confess his thoughts, his dreams, as if it were a conscious transgression to have them. And he wished, as a dull, throbbing pain settled deeper in his chest, that he was a stronger person.

* * *

A/N: Poor Edward! Writing the end of this chapter gave me sadness that only strawberry ice cream could cure =(


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Well, I'd say the pieces are pretty damn scattered. Shall we commence with the Fist Fight?

* * *

Roy was glad to get out of the sun as he pushed the church doors open and ducked through them – the scorching weather from the day before had continued through a warm night, and the cool of the sanctuary was a welcome relief. Not to mention he was pretty sure he hadn't been followed the night before or this morning – such leniency was a good sign, considering this _was_ a judicial sentence. Stepping further into the church, he blinked to adjust his eyes, and looked around.

The sanctuary, he always thought, was far too quiet a place. It seemed even more so as he bit his tongue halfway through starting to ask about the day's agenda. Usually Edward was waiting, wearing his too-sombre expression which would break momentarily to light up his face with a returned smile of greeting, holding a list of chores to be done.

Today, though, the space around him echoed into itself, his good mood fell steeply and he frowned, for he was very much alone.

Movement of the heavy curtain at the back captured his attention, and he opened his mouth to make a smart remark about tardiness, but once again stopped before making a sound; it wasn't Edward walking toward him. A man closer to Roy's age, probably a little older, with brown hair fading to a salt-and-pepper shade proceeded with the solemnity of a pallbearer until he was close enough to speak softly and still be heard.

"You will be working by yourself, today." He stated, keeping a level gaze at Roy's face and ignoring his frown as he held out a folded white object. "Here is a list of the work to be done, please think of it as a privilege of autonomy for good behaviour, and do not make us regret it."

"Where's Edward?" Roy asked, taking the offered paper and scanning it – routine stuff. Did Edward even write this list? He usually threw in something besides dusting and polishing to break it up.

"You do not need to know that." The elder cleric answered sharply, "Please proceed with your work." Roy's brows drew downward as the man shuffled away, and he tapped the paper against the back of one hand. That wasn't any kind of answer. Still, there was no point in pressing; that particular priest had a face closed as tight as his mouth; he wouldn't tell anything he didn't want to.

Maybe it was good that he was working by himself today, he thought, trying to dismiss disappointment as he headed toward the back to retrieve polishing oil and a rag. Some time alone would maybe help him cool his head and stop fantasizing about a youth half his age.

Yeah, right, like he hadn't been trying.

After so long reminding himself how stupid and impossible it was to fancy Edward, Roy was convinced he was insane because it hadn't made one iota of difference. Maybe he was a masochist, he thought with a smile, selecting the tools he needed from the closet and shutting it with a dull thud. Torturing himself with mental repetitions of the boy's voice, letting himself watch him while he worked, while he relaxed, egging him on to watch a blush explode across his tan cheeks. All the while knowing he couldn't have him.

'My god, I'm a walking cliché' Roy chuckled as he trumped back into the sanctuary and started in on the woodwork. Really, this would go by so much faster with two people. Strange that Edward hadn't said anything about this the day before. Was he sick?

If he was, it had to have been sudden; Edward had been FINE yesterday. A bit spaced-out, sure, but healthy. So then why? Had meeting his eye instead of looking away when Edward interrupted his staring the other day been too much? But he hadn't seemed mad; just flustered, and maybe a bit shyer than usual, but not upset. Not enough to make an excuse to not see him – watching Roy was as much Edward's job as working here was his, after all. He couldn't just ditch when he felt like it.

Footfalls once more snapped his attention back up from the woodwork. He found himself staring back at a young boy, who looked by his clothes to either be some manner of clerical assistant or else another ward of the church. The kid took a second to process Roy's presence before blinking rather stupidly and half-tiptoeing to the pulpit, where he started shuffling through the papers stored there. Roy followed his movements before continuing his work and feigning informality.

"Have you seen Edward around today?"

The kid jumped, and blinked twice before pointing at himself, as if to clarify that Roy had been talking to him, and not the wall.

"Yes, you."

"Ye – uh, no."

"That was a yes. Can you tell me where? He's late."

"I thought he was spending the day in the back chapel for pen-" the confused boy clapped his hands over his mouth, but not before Roy finished the word in his head. Penance. Ed was punishing himself? Why?

"Really? First I've heard." He replied, every bit casual, absorbed in his work. "What for?"

"I – I really should get going," the child stammered, taking a few steps toward the door, clutching a sheaf of paper. "I've got what I came for and-"

"Aw c'mon"

The kid hesitated, glancing at the door he'd entered through as if he was afraid listening ears might show themselves.

"I heard he came to the Father this morning with a confession" he said, dropping his voice to a whisper that Roy still heard clear as a bell. "Of impure thoughts or some such; everybody's saying you're a bad influence on him."

Roy fell silent, brows drawing downward as he stared very hard at the woodwork in front of him.

"I – I've said enough." Said Stupid Kid, and scampering footfalls followed by the thud of a door marked his exit.

Roy didn't really notice he'd left until the silence took over. His mind was running at the speed of an express train, and his white-knuckle grip on the rag in his hand was going to make his nails draw blood from his palm if he didn't relax it soon.

But there was just no way. No way in hell or anywhere else that he could be... that Edward had been thinking... that maybe he was... that maybe, just maybe.

There was a hope?

But that was ridiculous; because even if Stupid Kid wasn't lying through his teeth, there was no way to know; damned if he knew what the hell 'impure thoughts' was supposed to mean. What, acknowledging that you were human and a physical, sexual creature was supposed to be wrong? Or had he just cursed in his head or something? There was no way to know, logically, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if he could just see Edward, just see him, touch him somehow, he'd know.

The rag slid on the corner wall where he flung it, and settled on the hardwood as the door shut behind him.

Since morning, the kid had said. If the bells that rang clear across town every day were any indicator, morning here started at sunup. That meant Edward had been doing god-alone-knew-what for at least six hours at that point, and that was if he hadn't gotten up earlier.

Roy wasn't really thinking about decisions as he made them; turn this way, or that way; this door, not that one. He usually needed Edward to guide him around the inner sanctums of the oversized Ruling Church, but with his mind too busy for concerns about the way, memory guided his feet, and it wasn't long before he found himself at the door to the back chapel, breathing hard.

The back, or 'little' chapel was different from the one he'd been to on his first day there. It was little more than an eleven-by-eleven room, with a cross set up at one end, and a skylight above. It was mostly for meditation or something, from what he could gather. There was no sound from the other side of the door.

Swallowing and trying to steady his breathing, Roy glanced behind himself briefly before pulling on the silent door, and letting himself in.

What he saw took his breath away.

Edward stood nearer to the far end of the room, his hair tied back in a shining rope down his back, the light from above glowing like a halo on his head, and turning the dark red robe he usually wore to a stunning scarlet on his slim shoulders. His face was turned upward, his hands clasped before him.

'I believe in angels now.' Roy thought, even his voice in his head sounded breathless, and it took him a moment to realise that Edward was wobbling, his knees shaking in tremors. Had he been standing still all morning?

He took a step forward, wondering if he would be mad at the interruption, but the youth didn't turn as Roy advanced toward him. He swallowed, echoed steps quickening; there wasn't room for many of them. But he had to see his face; and even if he had control over his own hand at that point, he didn't think he could have stopped it reaching out and resting on Edward's shoulder.

"He- HEY!"

What started as a soft-spoken greeting resulted as a cry of alarm. No sooner had he laid a hand on the boy and let an ounce of weight fall into it than Edward wobbled under him and fell backward, a sound emitting faintly from his lips as he fell that may have been a cry if he had had more energy for it.

Dropping to his knees under the weight that he found across his arm and side as he caught the angelic youth, Roy felt his pulse stutter as Edward forced dazzling gold eyes open to stare back at him, and liquid welled in them.

"I don..." his head fell back, neck too tired to support its weight, and Roy shifted, too spellbound to look away, to catch him, the thick braid falling across his wrist.

"I don't understand." Edward whispered, and Roy jolted when he reached a limp arm up and tangled long fingers in his hair.

"Why" A hitch in his breath stopped his sentence at the first word, and Edward closed his eyes, liquid spilling over one cheekbone as he looked downward and continued shakily. "Why would this be wrong?"

It's not! Roy wanted to shout, feeling the utter weakness of the young man in his arms – hadn't he even given himself a break to kneel or something? How long had he been just standing still for? How long had those tears been building up? Had he even gotten any sleep? How long, the older man wondered, tilting his chin back up, had he been trying to not feel what Roy had been driving himself mad over?

It was there, he could see it now, this close and through liquid, a warmth reflecting from himself in gold eyes, a tenderness in tan fingers, absently – possibly even unconsciously – toying with his hair.

"Why- ah..." Edward stopped when Roy traced one thumb under his eye, wiping away the liquid there. He let his fingers slide across his smooth cheek, combing into spun gold as he leaned downward, intent on finding and communicating one thing and one thing only.

He tasted like honey that melts in the sun. He felt soft and tasted sweet and his sigh was warm, and he needed more. He needed to taste the innocent wants and hidden heat and show him it wasn't something to hide from.

It was like something in a dream, moving, tilting, just a little, just to taste and feel more, and the feeling of Ed's hand still tangled in his hair forming a loose fist as he let Roy pull him just a little closer. And yes, this was-

"Mn – NO!"

A sudden dual-handed blow to his chest knocked him backward and off-balance, and his eyes snapped open to see Edward on his back and arms as if he'd been crab-walking, breathing hard and staring at him with sheer terror written all over his flushed face.

"N-no... no!" Edward stumbled over himself more than once in his haste to get back on his feet while Roy watched, helplessly paralytic. For a few seconds, he just stood, locked in a bewildered stare that a pin falling could break. Only for a few seconds, then he spun, long braid swinging over his shoulder, and fled the room, hurriedly swiping at his cheeks with both sleeves, the heaviness of running footsteps masking the snags in his breathing.

Roy remained frozen in place until the sound of his footsteps faded.

Then he screamed.

* * *

A/N: Poor Edward! And poor Roy, getting shoved away by poor Edward! And poor Stupid Kid, being so stupid!

Seriously though, I hate it when I'm at work trying to do my job and greet someone, or even just saying hi to a random person, and theres NO ONE else around, and they act like I'm not talking to them. WHO ELSE WOULD I BE TALKING TO?

/rant

Thank you for all your reviews, btw; you're gonna give me a big head =3


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Oh dear, now everybody is miserable. But it's time to Clean Up.

* * *

"Edward? Edward!"

Edward snapped out of his thoughts at the increased volume of the call over his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked tiredly, looking up from where he'd been studying. Or trying to study. It was early morning, shortly after sunup prayers; and the cold air made him tired. It didn't help that in about an hour he'd have to get up again and go meet Roy at the front and somehow get through another day's work. Maybe he could ask someone else to take over watching him; his presence, or rather, resisting his own reactions to the man's presence, was wearing him down.

There, too, was that he had barely gotten any sleep the night before. The taste of wood-smoke and something dark and rich that had made him faint and then sent him running the day before had lingered even after he'd finally dropped off to sleep, pervading his dreams and leaving him more tired when he woke up then when he lay down. He'd kept quiet about it this time, though; a crime for which an irritated corner of his brain was still nagging at him.

"There's a gentleman by the confessional asking for you." The speaker, a middle-aged cleric with red hair, was blurry until Edward rubbed his eyes.

"For me?"

"Specifically, yes."

"He knows I can't hear confessions?" Edward asked incredulously, laying down his pen, slowly.

"Yes, he says he knows that, but wishes to speak with you in utmost privacy. Shall I send him away?"

"It's Roy, isn't it."

It wasn't a question, and the priest didn't treat it as one, merely standing back as Edward pushed his chair away from the desk so that he could bend nearly double and cover his face with his hands in frustration.

He didn't want to see him again. Well, he did, and that was the problem; he told himself just wanted this thing to be over; wanted him to go away and ask for a different sentence, or just disappear so he could forget about him and go back to everything being easy and comprehensible. He told himself he wanted that, so that maybe, if it happened, he could learn to want it for real.

But he also wanted a clean break. If there had to be a break.

That was what he needed, Edward reminded himself sternly, standing up and starting the walk toward the confessional by the main sanctuary. And he couldn't shake the feeling, as his footsteps made little mark of sound in the corridors, that he was walking to a funeral.

...

Leaning against the confessional door with his arms crossed and his eyes on the ceiling, Roy wondered if he was really, honestly crazy. He half-thought he had to be; any sane person with a thought to their future of sanity would have stood up the day before, walked home, and not come back. Skipped town, appealed for a different sentence, whatever, but not come back. Definitely not come back and ASKED to see the very person who'd pushed him off and away yelling "no!" the previous day.

So why, he wondered, listening until his head hurt with the strain for the sound of approaching footsteps, didn't he feel crazy? There was the never-ending spiral of whether or not crazy people knew if they were crazy, but he thought there'd be something. He didn't think his heartbeat would be this steady, or his mind would be this clear and focused. He didn't think he'd know so exactly what he wanted and why and what he would do to get it.

The simple truth was that he wasn't content to leave when he'd seen such fear and misery in the face that ran away from him, and he'd tear down heaven and earth and hell too if that was where he was going, to kiss those tears off his cheeks and make him understand that he didn't need to run away.

Maybe that was why he was there, waiting for Edward to come and reject him again; just too damn egotistical to accept that he couldn't teach him to release his fears and just love. Maybe he needed it spelled out and carved into his eyes to see that it wasn't happening.

Or maybe he was just a masochist.

Despite himself, Roy smiled wryly at the new inside-joke to his own expense, and closed his eyes, only to be greeted with the shadow of the miserable Edward who'd fallen into his arms and shot the hell back out the day before.

"Fuck." He swore, rubbing at his temples in frustration. Maybe he really was insane.

"I've asked you not to swear in here."

Roy's eyes shot open at the steady tenor, and he straightened to see him.

Edward's face was like stone. It chilled him to look at, and made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He may as well have been a statue, for all his expression conveyed. His jaw was set, his mouth a loose line, and his eyes were like yellow stones, completely unreadable, without even a shine or a blink to indicate humanity.

"What do you want from me?"

Roy swallowed. It was amazing how a person he stood head-and-shoulders over could be so damn intimidating. What DID he want from him, anyway? He'd come there with the vague idea of talking to him, making him think about why he'd pushed him away yesterday and somehow showing him that he didn't have to be chained back by the laws of this place. He'd considered telling him that'd felt him, that time. Felt the core of him, this blazing sun, this angel who'd been caged beneath a roof for so long, who tasted of fire and clear skies. And felt that need to fly; all in the space of a few seconds. And he wanted to let him know that it did not mean he was not some kind of demonic beast to be chained back and chastised and doused with holy water.

But he knew he couldn't say any of that, Edward wouldn't listen if he did, that much was plain on the youth's features. But he had to say something.

"Are you going to pretend yesterday didn't happen?"

Well, it was out there, vague and cliché, but out there.

"I am going to do my best to that end, yes."

"But will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Forget." So much for clear and focused, his pulse was beating like a bongo drum under his jaw, and hammering between his lungs, affecting his breathing. Or maybe he just wasn't breathing enough.

"Because I sure as hell won't."

Edward was silent, and his hard eyes had changed, avoiding his stare until Roy cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms, a defenceless stance.

"I have a confession to make."

"I can't hear confessions. I told you that."

"I love you." He swallowed, watched Edward's shoulders stiffen and his eyes widen and the slight, but audible intake of breath. "Seeing you this obviously miserable kills me. I'm not very good at this whole 'talking about feelings' shit, but I'd do just about anything to make you stop shutting away the things that make you – you-" he struggled through adjectives a crucial second before giving up. "Just YOU, and I need to know right now if that's something you can answer."

And there it was; the words stole his pulse as they left his mouth, and he felt his head spin and his chest constrict as the silence echoed.

Say something, oh god, say anything, but answer me.

Edward drew a shaky breath, and released it before pinning Roy beneath his stare.

"Get out of here."

His heart slammed back into his chest, hard and full of lead, and pumping raw ice.

"Go away, and don't come back until you have gained mastery over yourself."

Somehow, he was breathing without inhaling, stars danced before his eyes and a high-whining of dizziness invaded his brain from the back. Someone had knocked a sack of bricks against his chest that forced him a step backward, and someone else slipped an invisible hand over the protests rising on his tongue, and lifted his feet, one at a time, to turn and walk out. The buildings passed by in a hazy blur until his own door nearly hit him in the face. Surprised, he found the knob and turned it, and stepped inside.

Then someone let go of his shaking knees, and ghosted away with the strength of his limbs, and he fell to his knees as a cold blackness draped itself over him and circled one frigid hand around his heart.

* * *

A/N: This is one of those chapters that was, as a fangirl, difficult to write. Pretty much the entire last five paragraphs my fingers were working on their own while I screamed protest.

If it weren't for that faint sliver of this thing called 'staying true to the story', Edward would have done the whole "Get out of here" thing and then gone "... just kidding, get over here and strip. =)"

Alas, t'was not to be.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Editing this chapter was like bushwacking through a rainforest. I'd like to think it's not as emo as it was before, but it was meant to read heavy, so I hope I achieved some kind of balance. I actually put off the proofreading of this chapter because the first half depressed me a lot, it reminded me of how caged-in I felt toward the end of my church-person life. Ah, sweet freedom in agnostics.

This chapter, let's Shake Hands

* * *

'I probably look terrible', Edward thought as he trooped along the cold hallway to Evening Prayers with the other occupants of the church. Sleepless or restless nights were becoming a constant that settled into his bones and sapped at his strength. He felt like someone had set iron weights on his shoulders, and even buckling under them wouldn't get rid of it.

His words still hung in ringing echoes in the sanctuary where he'd sent Roy away. They had stung his lips like hard rain, as they passed him, and that rain continued to fall even after the doors closed and he slid down to hold his knees as close to his aching chest as possible. It hadn't helped, though he'd stayed there for quite some time, until he'd heard someone coming and had had to get up and hide his face and race from the room until he could feign composure. But the weights had landed on his shoulders by then, and all that night and through the following morning and afternoon they had taken their toll with the chains that constricted his pounding heart.

He'd still not confessed to kissing Roy back just for an instant that day. He'd not confessed to the following dreams and lingering taste of him afterward. He'd definitely made no mention of their conversation by the confessional. But the part of his mind that kept demanding he go apologize for this thing that had sprouted up from nothing and was slowly choking him from the inside was getting easier to ignore than the thing itself.

It hurt. He wasn't sure what 'it' was, because speaking plainly, everything hurt as he took up his place on the cold stone floor and knelt and waited for the low, echoing words to pass over himself and everyone else in the red robes of the church, preparing his voice not to shake in repetition. It hurt as if he'd spent his whole life attached to something; some kind of vital vein that connected to his heart and provided him with warmth and the strength he needed to keep moving and thinking, the part that let him smile, that made his brain feel a soft buzz of content almost reminiscent of drunkenness. And someone had grabbed hold of it and made it sprout thorns and wrenched it out of him, quite suddenly. He felt like he was bleeding in the gap and no stitch could mend it.

And then he felt an elbow in his side and he realised he'd forgotten to repeat an 'amen'.

Dragging his thoughts out of himself and into the room, Edward found himself hearing sound but no words. He had an idea what was being said, but couldn't make himself take enough of an interest to comprehend the language of it. Words like 'punishment' and 'sinner' and 'forgiveness' and 'amen so may it be' kept popping out, but they were lost in echoes and the whirling of his mind.

The words kept slipping into him every time he caught the sound rising from those around him and added his own voice to the drone. The words echoed through the room and sliced into his bones, adding strength to the weights and their chains. He opened his eyes, and dared to glance around him, at all the kneeling figures. What was stopping them, he wondered, from standing up and opening their own eyes? It gave him a strange, childish kind of thrill to look at the floor when everyone else saw only the backs of their own eyelids. He had the indestructible feeling that the command to close your eyes to clear out distractions was only a group of words, like those whirling around and past and through him, and that he could harden himself and make those words slide off and pool on the floor.

"Fuck you" he felt like saying, just to hear the obscenity on his tongue, feel some of the misery and pain and sting that pulsed through him released, "I'll open my eyes if I want to."

He gulped, hard, and closed them again, feeling strange. He tried to listen, tried to put his heart and soul into it like he'd always been able to. But he kept hearing words behind the words; 'God loves you' but he doesn't love Roy. 'Our God is a God of forgiveness' but only if you agree to categorize what you've done as wrong. 'God's kingdom is free of sin and corruption, amen' God's kingdom has no place for Roy or people like him. People like me.

People like me.

He turned the words over in his head and opened his eyes again, staring at the floor beneath him. People like him because, for a minute, just for a minute before fear and confusion and the thought that he could think it over later but for now he needed to just stop so he could return to everything being comprehensible made him shove as hard as he could against Roy and knock himself back to the floor and away from the kiss that had made a slim finger of life steal its way into his chest. Just for a minute, before he'd done that, when he'd seen Roy's eyelids begin to close and had watched the lashes brush on his high cheekbones as he moved toward him, he'd felt something hard and painful fall apart, leaving him soft and vulnerable and free, and something hot and smooth that he could feel and drink and absorb into himself had flooded through him, and dizzied him and made it hard to breathe, and the thought that _this_ was what he'd been apologizing for wanting suffocated his brain until the contrast hurt and he had to get rid of one or the other.

The dismissal echoed like the prayers before it and Edward got to his feet, knees a little stiff as always. 'I don't need your permission' he felt like saying, 'I could have gotten up and walked out before if I really wanted to; it was only words that kept me down, nobody was going to grab my wrists and keep me on my knees.' But he didn't say anything – he never did. And as he made his way toward the door, he wondered why.

Probably something to do with eternal torment and the loss of everything he'd ever called secure.

He shuddered, but set back his shoulders and looked ahead. He couldn't help thinking he could take it. That the feeling of walking where someone had told him not to would be worth it, to go beyond the 'do not cross' signs and poke around, and maybe find something he could call his own. Because how did he know staying inside the walls and below the words that said 'stay down' was a good idea? How did he know when he'd never walked over the line, or stood up beyond the words. There was no reason to believe they were wrong, but no evidence that they were right, either, and he was getting very tired of taking words for truth without experience to back them. Specifically, he was tired of being tired over wrestling with the gray zone between what he felt and what he'd always believed.

Edward sat in the window, and drummed his fingers on the brickwork of the wall. One of endless walls, church walls and house walls and business walls that kept him far away from the sunlight that had brought something warm and satisfied to life in him. That something had become part of him, mixed blood with him and was now dying and taking him with it. No, that wasn't right. It wasn't some other entity, it was himself. He was dying. Something in him had woken up and taken up its rightful place as part of him and he'd sent its lifeblood away past all those walls that he wouldn't cross and now he was dying.

Leaning his head back, Edward felt his head bump against the wall, and looked out.

It's better to go

It's better to stay.

"Fuck it!"

He looked around the small room, eyes darting around, but never resting on anything for more than a second. He crossed the space in a few steps, opened the door and closed it in one fluid motion, and stood in the empty hallway, feeling out of place. He went to bed after prayers, read the Book until his eyes were tired, and dropped off; always, since he could remember. It sent the charge in his nerves fizzing to be standing, walking along through the corridors with only the faint echo of his steps to mark his presence. Half-there in the back of his mind was a fear that someone would come out through a door and stop him, but as he passed door after door and room after room and no one did, his steps sped up and he knew where he wanted to go, and he knew that no words, no matter how long or how sure they sounded, could stop him this time. Because he was tired of them, and tired of the weights on his shoulders and the chains around this thing that had sprung up in his heart. Because he'd been made strong, and they couldn't hold him back anymore, and he couldn't live without the warmth that had surged in him and that he'd pushed away because of damned words.

His steps turned to a run as he fled the sanctuary, and didn't slow as the double doors thudded shut behind him in the twilight. He kept running as the streets and signs and endless walls fled past him, and he strained to remember every word Roy had ever said or half-said about where he lived.

He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he ran, and his breaths inhaled an evening premonition of winter into his lungs as he slowed down, staring at house after apartment after house, denying, ruling out, and dismissing until he stood on steps, certainty shaking in his knees as he rapped sharply on the door and bit his tongue to keep himself from fleeing.

Silence echoed with the fading hum of a city going to sleep as he waited for the handle to turn and the weights began to slowly catch up with him and crawl back up to his shoulders.

He was about to turn away when a short creak heralded the door opening.

No angel of mercy or relief stood in the doorway, no vision of perfection ready to replace the cold hole he felt growing at his absence from the halls he'd called home and haven. The man who stood in the doorway was dishevelled, and worn dark lines stood under the ink-black eyes, shirt un-tucked and partly undone, standing in a messy house with only a kitchen light on.

Even better.

For a half a moment, Edward struggled through trying to choose a word, or a phrase, or something that would explain his presence and the need that held a stranglehold on him and dragged him by magnetic abandon halfway across town to stand at this door and somehow erase the push that had possibly been the hugest mistake he'd ever made

But words didn't seem adequate. Just words, sounds given connotation; how could they be trusted?

But he just stood there, not saying anything, looking as if he wasn't quite sure he believed what he was seeing, and hanging back, he felt a canyon growing on the step in front of him that only added to the weights. And he hadn't come this far to let that dying sensation take him over again.

He swallowed, and licked dry lips and then rushed his hands upward to grab the collar of Roy's shirt and prayed that he didn't make fun of his height _now_ of all times and pulled him down and himself to his tiptoes and pressed his lips to Roy's as tight as he could.

It was sloppy, and on a strange angle, and his grip was white-knuckled and desperate and his weight was probably pulling in a less than comfortable way on Roy's shoulders, but he stayed like that for the four seconds – he counted – it took for Roy to un-freeze.

And then, OH. HOLY. HELL.

He was dimly aware of being pulled forward by an arm across his lower back, but the sound of the door closing behind him didn't register as a calloused hand tilted his face and ran through his hair, gripping him tight as he felt himself pressed against a wall and "Ah, yes-" he let go of Roy's collar only long enough to wrap his arms around the man's neck so he could press himself closer against his hard body – this, this was what he'd been dying for, carding one hand through the mussed-up, shadowy hair and sighing farther into the most solid, secure embrace he was sure he'd ever felt or feel again.

"Ah! Hnn – Edward, what – god..." It took Roy two tries to pull away enough to lean his forehead against Edward's, and try to get his breath back. It sent a thrill through him to realise that he was the one who'd taken it away.

"Why are you here?" he asked, a minute later, the hand that had been holding his head having dropped to his shoulder, though the other stayed curled around his waist.

"Because I need you."

The words slipped out like water, despite the thousands of words piling in his mind to explain his presence, and he was surprised at how accurate the careless choice actually was.

Roy stared back at him, he could see his pulse pounding in a vein beneath his jaw, black inkwells searching for any trace of doubt or deceit. Edward swallowed under the scrutiny that saw straight through him, and dragged his arms around the older man, burying his face in his shoulder as the words choked and then tumbled past his mouth unstoppably. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you go and please don't send me away because I'll just die and-"

Laughter halted him. A low chuckle that hadn't failed to make his heart skip before and did the same then as he felt himself leaned back enough to look at Roy's face again.

"Send you away?"

Carefully, a thumb caressed his cheek, brushing under his eye where he hadn't felt the warm tears building, tilting his jaw upward.

"How could I do that? I _love_ you."

It seemed so obvious then, saying it back was just like breathing.

And just like that the weights fell from his shoulders, the chains snapped, the endless words and warnings plucked themselves out of his bones and slid to the floor, forgotten as warmth sank back into his flesh, filling him up with the taste of burning coals. Skilful, rough fingers shrugging the thick red robe from his shoulders and a slick muscle invading his mouth and mapping out every detail, twisting around his own and making him dizzy, stealing words and replacing them with whispered sighs for more, and all he could do was hold on as he was swept away.

* * *

A/N: Wow, this chapter was emotive, and fluffy. But you know you liked it. Emotive fluffiness is every yaoi fangirl's guilty pleasure. Unless yaoi itself is your guilty pleasure. In which case the two go hand in hand and you need to get used to it.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Don't you just HATE it when someone commits to an update schedule, and then cops out at the last minute and hands you an author's note chapter instead?

Me too, which is why I feel bad about this, I really do, but due to unforseen circumstances, there will be no chapter posted until the 9th, and that will be the last chapter.

Thank you for understanding! I'll be hiding from the lynch mob now; on the off chance hiding behind Kanda-kun doesn't work, please try not to hit my face too much!

~Natalie / Fracturefic.

PS - please not to flag. This chapter will come down on the 9th when the final chapter goes up.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Location: A cluttered bedroom full of posters and nerdy bric-a-brac. A girl is lying on the bed, sulking in an oversized red sweater with Edward's serpent cross on the back. A shorter girl with a black bob haircut enters.

Lacy: I thought you were going to post the Forgive and Forget chapter today.

Me: No, dude, it sucks.

Lacy: It doesn't suck as bad as the other ending you were going to do.

Me: It still sucks. The new ending is just the old one with the suck-ier part taken out. I'm still not happy with it.

Lacy: You swore you'd post this chapter a week ago. Just put it up, it's probably not as bad as you think it is, and some people will read anything (aside) how else do you explain "Don't Touch Me" getting favourited?

Me: I heard that. And fine, but if I get lynched for putting a sucky ending to a decent story, it's your fault.

* * *

Dawn had barely begun to peek over the rooftops of the city when the obnoxious ringing of an alarm forced Roy from sleep.

He glared death at the source of the disturbance before reaching out and tossing it against the wall, where it went silent with a worrying 'crack' sound.

Mumbling useless complaints, he shoved the covers off, swiveling to sit on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes on his palms for a minute until he felt awake enough to get dressed.

Tramping down the stairs as quietly as possible, he slowed as he reached the bottom, and leaned against the wall, a small smirk on his lips. Ah, so he hadn't been dreaming.

Edward lay fast asleep across the couch, a spare blanket tucked over his shoulders, where he'd crashed the night before. Under protest.

Roy chuckled to himself as he glanced at the clock on the wall and then proceeded toward the kitchen to start coffee.

It was beyond ironic, after everything, that he'd be the one turning Edward down, but for once he thought his cynical side was probably in the right. It would have been very, very easy to have gone much farther than kissing him the night before. Easy, if not for the nagging in the back of his mind that regardless of how much he wanted him, regardless of the fact that it was Edward who'd come to him, and regardless of how fucking LONG it had been since he'd gotten any action, this was not how it ought to be.

Edward had snapped, or so he'd phrased it, and essentially fled in search of some kind of validation that he could break out of it and still have a place and a person to go to. And while it had been gratifying to be the one he ran to, he wasn't about to kid himself into thinking if he had other friends who openly opposed the church, that there wasn't an equal or greater chance he would have gone to them – greater, if he was smart enough not to add hormones to his confusions for the night. No; sex, mindless, comfort, or otherwise, barely even qualified as a bandage solution, and certainly if he wanted anything more than carnal satisfaction from the blond, would have started them on a shaky left foot.

That didn't make it any easier to separate, of course, and staying where he'd chosen to stand remained difficult every time the thought crossed his mind that it would be one hell of a waste of a dream if he did not take the youth sitting on the counter to bed that instant.

That Edward had protested the separation didn't make it easier at all.

But in the end he thought it had turned out for the better, more or less. He'd gotten more of an explanation out of him once he calmed down a little, and listened.

There was a lot to talk about, though Roy barely needed to say more than "Uh-huh" and a few nods to keep the blond talking.

"_I don't know what I'm doing here." Edward muttered, looking out the window at the darkening city behind him," I almost want to go home just to know where I am, but then I have to go back to a standard of behaviour I'll never be able to satisfy and I'll have to go back to trying to not want to be with you and being scared as anything any time I mess up and its making me so tired and I just can't deal with it and-"_

"_In the short term or the long term?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_Are you looking for a break and a place to crash for one night where nobody's going to yell at you if you don't feel like getting up at the crack of dawn to pray, or are you looking for a hide-out? You're welcome to use my home for either, but I'd like to know so I can know what to think. You've kind of thrown me off my equilibrium here"_

"_...honestly? I don't know. I might be jumping to conclusions – I do that a lot; stopping to think things through doesn't really come easy for me, and maybe I'm just being stubborn, but.."_

_Roy watched, and waited for him to finish his sentence as he fiddled with the end of his shirtsleeve and stared at his hands. When he did speak, he had to strain to hear._

"_I meant it when I said I loved you." Edward half-whispered, still not looking up, "I mean... sheesh this is awkward."_

_He chuckled, risking the distance to lean against the wall nearer the counter Edward was sitting on to lay a hand on his head, letting it slide down along his hair over one ear. He leaned his head into his palm, and exhaled, slowly._

"_I want you, y'know."_

_He swallowed, considered retracting his hand. Bad timing. Bad idea. Not now, not a good way to start anything-_

"_But if it was just that I think I could have stayed – y'know, convinced myself I'm just lonely and need to be more social or something. If it was just that, but it's not."_

_Roy was silent as Edward took a slow breath._

"_Cause even though you made me stop, I still wanna be here."_

Of course, that didn't stop him from nearly screaming in frustration once he'd bid an exhausted Edward goodnight and climbed the stairs by himself.

And it really didn't help that he had to force himself up so early, when the city was still mostly dark.

The coffee pot boiling interrupted his thoughts, and he snapped back to the present, pulling two mugs from the cabinet and filling them before venturing back into the living room.

Edward was still asleep, and looking at him, Roy felt a twinge of guilt for waking him this early, but... well, couldn't be helped. Setting the drinks down, he took hold of one shoulder, and shook him, none too gently.

"Oi, sleeping beauty, wake up."

"MmMMPHnn.." he retreated under the blanket.

"Up, or I'm getting a bucket."

"You always this mean?" Edward mumbled, looking out from under the cover, messy hair hiding most of his face.

"Only in the morning." He reassured with a smirk, sitting down on the arm of the couch and offering one of the coffee mugs. "So wake up; you've got two options."

"Two?" he accepted the drink carefully, cradling it between his hands as he shifted to sit up.

"Two." Roy repeated, nodding once. "You can grab your coat and run back up the hill now before anyone notices you're gone, I'll play nice and serve the rest of my sentence, but we can't be anything other than friends."

He tried to breathe while he waited for the sleepily disheveled youth on his couch to reply, but it wasn't very easy.

"I thought that was my only option." Edward muttered. "And I don't like it much, it leaves the distinct possibility I'll go insane and a near certainty of being miserable again."

The stranglehold fell off of his lungs, and he exhaled, slowly, choosing his next words with care. "Well, there's that, or we can see if I have any clothes you could change into, and get the hell out of this ironically god-forsaken country on a cliché fool's gamble."

Edward froze halfway through taking a drink of the coffee, and set it down to turn and face him, incredulous.

"Are you being serious?"

"If I was joking, I would come up with something more original." He assured solemnly.

The blond youth was silent for a long moment, reading his face before he spoke again.

"...where would we go?"

Roy swallowed a sigh of relief. "Drachma has pretty loose border laws – the side effect being that it's an unstable country that swings from uprising to uprising every other week."

"No alternatives?" he cringed, drumming his fingers along the mug in his hands.

"Well, Xing, but the only places there isn't tight border security is where only fools try to cross – and I don't speak Xingese, do you?"

"No, I could learn, though." A peal of laughter broke suddenly from his lips "I can't believe we're talking seriously about this." He said with a grin, and Roy couldn't resist a chuckle, himself.

"Crazy, huh?" He moved his arm out of the way as Edward swivelled sideways on the couch and leaned backward against his side. "But I can't find any other alternatives, and, well, honestly I think I'll go nuts if I have to watch you walk away again."

"Yeah." The youth relaxed against him, his weight warm and welcome against the older man's side. "You've discounted what happens if we get caught, though" he added, worry lining his voice.

"I have thought of that, to a great extent, actually. And I've come up with a very simple solution."

"What's that?"

"Don't get caught."

Silence reigned for another long minute before-

"Heh. Well that's simple enough." Edward grinned up at him, mischief sparkling in gold eyes, and he felt his heart skip a beat or ten. "Where do we start?"

The room was cold, at that hour of the morning, but just then, a supernova crashed into the atmosphere and sank behind his chest to pulse warmth through his veins. Because that was it – somehow, impossibly, he'd agreed. A flame of possession flickered to life and whispered 'mine', and a smile – a real one, not his usual mask of a smirk, broke across his face as he drew breath to answer.

"With caffeine." He said, "And a walk to the bus station – I just hope they haven't put surveillance back on my house for skipping work these past two days."

"I said you weren't feeling well, it should be fine."

"Oh, did you? Thanks."

"Any risk is worth it though, isn't it?" he looked down again to find Edward twisted to look up, still leaning comfortably encircled by one arm. "To go somewhere where we could make something of this, and not have to fear for it?"

"'this' is frowned on everywhere" Roy pointed out soberly, smoothing the tangles out of his hair with his free hand. "You realise that, don't you? This isn't a cure, it's barely a vaccine."

"I said, any risk. I'm not stopping now." Edward replied, stubbornly.

"Prejudice? Discrimination? Prison? Death penalty?" A voice in Roy's head was yelling at him not to give the youth more reasons to back out, but if they were going to do this crazy thing, he wanted no holes.

Edward swallowed, hard. "If we don't get caught, we won't get caught." he said, slowly, sifting his words, "And, well, here's hoping someday we won't have to worry about that anymore. Meantime, shouldn't we get going?"

"After you."

* * *

A/N: It is over now! I feel a little sad, but hopefully you had as much fun reading as I had writing it, and it looks like those two fools will be all right, so that's something n_n

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews - please to author-alert and/or read my other stories? Thanks and happy holidays to the lot 'o ye!

And don't forget to lynch Lacy, not me, if you thought this ending sucked (see first authors note)


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